November 2011
40 posts
In the backseat, with my head propped up against the window, I watched lights from streetlamps outside paint the back of the passenger seat.
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The bones were re-set and a beautiful cast fashioned, creating a protective shell over the hurt curve of her arm, to provide aid in mending.
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A fog of malformation hovered over the wombs of every pregnancy in the ward, manipulating tissue structure in fragile developmental stages.
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“So incredibly lonely,” murmurs a tortoise ashore looking both ways up and down a gray beach. “I remember, repeatedly, awful things passed.”
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The house with no doors and no windows wakes up each day to see no changes, nor respite, and our conversations turn to vengeance and regret.
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Birds fell to the street, touched the base of my knee and rained; I looked at all the other people who fell and they were stricken as well.
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Last minute notice: LIVE READING tonight. Me and @myrrh at @somedaylounge for The Someday Incubator @ 9pm in #pdx. #pdxlit #portland #occult
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A torture device resides inside the mind, which may only be dismantled through drugs, drink and distraction, shimmering like a spider’s web.
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Carefully I patched my fingertips to your skin, grafting, the touch of the knobs of your spine, the edge of your hip. In time, I would know.
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By the time we crawled out from beneath the front porch our clothes were dusted and smeared with dirt, our faces and arms cut up and tired.
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